The first thing is to pray. From the moment we begin to pray, things start moving. The darker the night, the closer the dawn. From the moment we chant daimoku with a deep and powerful resolve, the sun begins to rise in our hearts. Hope—prayer is the sun of hope. To chant daimoku each time we face a problem, overcoming it and elevating our life-condition as a result—this is the path of "changing earthly desires into enlightenment," taught in Nichiren Daishonin's Buddhism.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 15/8
Sunday, April 10, 2011
What is meant by more one matures, the younger one grows?
The German author Hermann Hesse (1877-1962) writes that the more one matures, the younger one grows. And certainly there are many people who, as they age, become increasingly vigorous and energetic, more broad-minded and tolerant, living with a greater sense of freedom and assurance. It is important to remember that aging and growing old are not necessarily the same thing.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 14/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 14/8
THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT - a Story from the Buddhist Sutra
Several citizens ran into a hot argument about God and different religions, and each one could not agree to a common answer. So they came to the Lord Buddha to find out what exactly God looks like.
The Buddha asked his disciples to get a large magnificent elephant and four blind men. He then brought the four blind to the elephant and told them to find out what the elephant would "look" like.
The first blind men touched the elephant leg and reported that it "looked" like a pillar. The second blind man touched the elephant tummy and said that an elephant was a wall. The third blind man touched the elephant ear and said that it was a piece of cloth. The fourth blind man hold on to the tail and described the elephant as a piece of rope. And all of them ran into a hot argument about the "appearance" of an elephant.
The Buddha asked the citizens: "Each blind man had touched the elephant but each of them gives a different description of the animal. Which answer is right?"
"All of them are right," was the reply.
"Why? Because everyone can only see part of the elephant. They are not able to see the whole animal. The same applies to God and to religions. No one will see Him completely." By this parable, the Lord Buddha teaches that we should respect all other ligitimate religions and their beliefs.
The Buddha asked his disciples to get a large magnificent elephant and four blind men. He then brought the four blind to the elephant and told them to find out what the elephant would "look" like.
The first blind men touched the elephant leg and reported that it "looked" like a pillar. The second blind man touched the elephant tummy and said that an elephant was a wall. The third blind man touched the elephant ear and said that it was a piece of cloth. The fourth blind man hold on to the tail and described the elephant as a piece of rope. And all of them ran into a hot argument about the "appearance" of an elephant.
The Buddha asked the citizens: "Each blind man had touched the elephant but each of them gives a different description of the animal. Which answer is right?"
"All of them are right," was the reply.
"Why? Because everyone can only see part of the elephant. They are not able to see the whole animal. The same applies to God and to religions. No one will see Him completely." By this parable, the Lord Buddha teaches that we should respect all other ligitimate religions and their beliefs.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Why should we stop worrying about our future and start to concentrate on developing ourselve?
An important thing is that you concentrate on developing yourself. Whatever others may say or do, those who have established their own solid sense of identity will triumph in the end. The great Japanese author Eiji Yoshikawa (1892-1962) wrote in his novel Miyamoto Musashi [an account of the seventeenth-century master swordsman of the same name]: "Rather than worrying about your future, thinking 'Perhaps I should become this or perhaps I should become that,' first be still and build a self that is as solid and unmoving as Mount Fuji."
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 13/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 13/8
What is the importance of courage?
Courage is free. Anyone can have it. Courage is another name for the SGI spirit. Mr. Toda said: "The Buddha is filled with compassion, but it is hard for us common mortals to show compassion. So we must have courage instead." In other words, when we work courageously for kosen-rufu, our actions by their very nature, become compassionate.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 12/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 12/8
THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE - a story from the Buddhist Sutra
In a previous life, Siddhartha Gautama was a King in a small country that was located somewhere in present day Tibet. And he was very well known among the ancient civilization for his love and compassion towards other sentient beings. So one day, Sakra Devendra, the King of Gods (Note: 1), decided to test him to see if he was indeed the future Buddha.
Sakra turned himself into a dove and one of his gods into an eagle. The eagle was in a hunting mood and chased the frightened dove who flied right into the King's palace. The dove cried out: "Your majesty, please save my life, because I am going to be eaten by a hungry eagle."
On hearing this, the compassionate King tried to chase the eagle away. But the eagle also cried out: "Your Majesty, please save my life and let me eat the dove, otherwise I will be starved to death."
"Why don't you eat something else rather than a dove?", asked the King.
"Look, your Majesty", replied the eagle, "God created me so that I have to eat meet. I had no other choice."
The King now faced a dilemma: how could he save both animals? Without hesitation, he ordered his soldiers: "Cut some flesh from my body and feed it to the eagle". Of course his soldiers were horrified to hear this. But they did obey the order and cut some flesh from the King's own body to feed the eagle. Miraculously, when the soldiers carried out the order, the King did not feel any pain at all, nor were there any blood spilling out. (Some Buddhist texts give a slight differently story. It was said that the eagle asked for some flesh equal to the weight of the dove. The soldiers put the dove on one side of a scale and the King's flesh on the other side. They continued cut out the King's flesh to feed the eagle until the scales were balanced. Then the King fainted).
The Heavenly Emperor was convinced that the King was indeed the future Buddha. He and his god immediately reappeared as themselves and restored the King to his original health.
Note 1: Sakra is the leader of Trayastrimsa Heavens (33 Heavens), where all the gods live. In many Asian cultures, he is also known by other titles such as Emperor Sakra, Heavenly Emperor, Emperor on High, etc., and sometimes Taoists say that he is also Jade Emperor.
Sakra turned himself into a dove and one of his gods into an eagle. The eagle was in a hunting mood and chased the frightened dove who flied right into the King's palace. The dove cried out: "Your majesty, please save my life, because I am going to be eaten by a hungry eagle."
On hearing this, the compassionate King tried to chase the eagle away. But the eagle also cried out: "Your Majesty, please save my life and let me eat the dove, otherwise I will be starved to death."
"Why don't you eat something else rather than a dove?", asked the King.
"Look, your Majesty", replied the eagle, "God created me so that I have to eat meet. I had no other choice."
The King now faced a dilemma: how could he save both animals? Without hesitation, he ordered his soldiers: "Cut some flesh from my body and feed it to the eagle". Of course his soldiers were horrified to hear this. But they did obey the order and cut some flesh from the King's own body to feed the eagle. Miraculously, when the soldiers carried out the order, the King did not feel any pain at all, nor were there any blood spilling out. (Some Buddhist texts give a slight differently story. It was said that the eagle asked for some flesh equal to the weight of the dove. The soldiers put the dove on one side of a scale and the King's flesh on the other side. They continued cut out the King's flesh to feed the eagle until the scales were balanced. Then the King fainted).
The Heavenly Emperor was convinced that the King was indeed the future Buddha. He and his god immediately reappeared as themselves and restored the King to his original health.
Note 1: Sakra is the leader of Trayastrimsa Heavens (33 Heavens), where all the gods live. In many Asian cultures, he is also known by other titles such as Emperor Sakra, Heavenly Emperor, Emperor on High, etc., and sometimes Taoists say that he is also Jade Emperor.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Mahasstava
In the remote past there lived a devout and powerful king named Maharattha. He had three sons by name, Maha Prashada, Maha Deva, and Mahasattva, all good and obedient.
One bright day the king, accompanied by the princes and attendants, went on an excursion to a forest park. The young princes, admiring the enchanting beauty of the flowers and trees, gradually penetrated far into the thick forest.
The attendants noticed their absence and reported the matter to the king. He ordered his ministers to go in search of them and returned to his palace.
The tree princes, wandering through the forest, reached a mountain top. From there the eldest saw a starving tigress with five cubs almost on the verge of death. For seven days since her delivery she had been without food. The cubs approached the mother to suck milk, but she had nothing to satisfy their hunger, and the tigress, driven by starvation, was clearly at the point of unnaturally devouring her own cubs.
The eldest brother was the first to see this pathetic spectacle. He showed the tigress to his brothers and said, "Behold that pitiful sight, O brothers! That starving tigress is about to devour her own cubs. How wretched is their condition!"
"What is their staple food, brother?" inquired Mahasattva.
"Flesh and blood is the staple food of tigers and lions." replied Maha Prashada.
"The tigress seems to be very weak. Evidently she is without food for some days. How noble if one could sacrifice one's own body for their sake!"
"But who is willing to make such great sacrifice!" remarked Maha Deva.
"Surely, no one would be able to do so," stated Maha Prashada.
"I lack intelligence. Ignorant people like us would not be able to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of another. But there may be selfless men of boundless compassion who would be willingly do so," said Mahasattva in a merciful tone.
Thus they discussed amongst themselves and casting a last glance at the helpless tigress, they departed.
Mahasattva thought to himself, "Sacrifice I must this fleeting body for the sake of this starving tigress. Foul is this body, and is subject to decay and death. One may adorn and perfume it, but soon it will stink and perish."
Reflecting thus, he requested his brothers to proceed as he would retiring to the forest for some reason or other.
He retraced his steps to the place where the tigress was resting. Hanging his garments and ornaments on a tree, again he thought, "Work I must for the weal of others. Compassionate we must be towards all beings. To serve those who need our succour is our paramount duty. This foul body of mine will I sacrifice and thus save the tigress and her five cubs. By this meritorious act may I gain Samma Sambuddhahood and save all beings from the ocean of Samsara! May all beings be well and happy!"
Moved by compassion and inspired by the spirit of selfless service, dauntlessly he jumped off the precipice towards the tigress.
The fall did not result in an instantaneous death. The tigress, though ruthless by nature, pitied the Bodhisattva and would not even touch his body.
The Bodhisattva thought otherwise, "Obviously the poor animal is too weak to devour me!"
So he went in search of a weapon. He came across a bamboo splinter, and drawing near the tigress, he cut off his neck and fell dead on the ground in a pool of blood.
The hungry tigress greedily drank the blood and devoured the flesh leaving mere bones.
At the moment the Bodhisattva sacrificed his body, the earth quaked, the water of the ocean were disturbed, the sun's ray dimmed, eye-sight was temporarily blurred, Devas gave cries of Sadhu, and Parijata flowers came down as rain from heaven.
Affected by the earthquake, the two elder brothers rightly guessed that their younger brother must have become a prey to the tigress.
"Surely, Mahasattva must have sacrificed his life, for he spoke in a very merciful tone," said Maha Deva.
Both of them turned back and went to the spot. They were horrified and awe-struck at the unexpected spectacle. What they saw was not their belovedbrother but a mass of bone besmeared with blood. On a tree close by they saw the hanging garments.
They wept and fainted and on regaining consciousness, they returned home with a heavy heart.
On the very day the Bodhisattva sacrificed his life the mother-queen dreamt that she was dead, that her teeth had fallen out, and that she experienced a pain as if her body were cut by a sharp weapon. Furthermore, she dreamt that a hawk came drooping down and carried one of the three beautiful pigeons that were perched on the roof.
The queen was frightened, and on waking she remembered that her princes had gone for an airing in the forest. She hastened to the king and related the inauspicious dreams.
On being informed that the princes were missing, she entreated the king to send messengers in search of them.
Some ministers who had gone earlier to search for them returned to the palace with the sad news of the lamentable deadth of the youngest prince. Hearing it nobody was able to refrain from weeping. The king, however, comforted the queen and, mounting an elephant, speedily proceeded to the forest with his attendants and brought back the other two grieving sons.
So great was their grief that at first the were speechless. Later summoning up courage, they explained to their bereaved mother the heroic deed of their noble brother.
Soon order was given by the king to make necessary arrangements for them all to visit the memorable scene of the incident.
All reached the spot in due course. At the mere sight of the blood-smeared bones of the dearest son scattered here and there, both the king and queen fainted. The Purohita Bhahmin instantly poured sandal wood water over them, and they regained consciousness.
Thereupon, the king ordered his ministers to gather all the hair, bones, and garments and, heaping them together, worshipped them. Advising them to erect a golden Cetiya enshrining the relics, with a grieving heart, he departed to his palace.
The Cetiya was afterwards named "Om Namo Buddha."
One bright day the king, accompanied by the princes and attendants, went on an excursion to a forest park. The young princes, admiring the enchanting beauty of the flowers and trees, gradually penetrated far into the thick forest.
The attendants noticed their absence and reported the matter to the king. He ordered his ministers to go in search of them and returned to his palace.
The tree princes, wandering through the forest, reached a mountain top. From there the eldest saw a starving tigress with five cubs almost on the verge of death. For seven days since her delivery she had been without food. The cubs approached the mother to suck milk, but she had nothing to satisfy their hunger, and the tigress, driven by starvation, was clearly at the point of unnaturally devouring her own cubs.
The eldest brother was the first to see this pathetic spectacle. He showed the tigress to his brothers and said, "Behold that pitiful sight, O brothers! That starving tigress is about to devour her own cubs. How wretched is their condition!"
"What is their staple food, brother?" inquired Mahasattva.
"Flesh and blood is the staple food of tigers and lions." replied Maha Prashada.
"The tigress seems to be very weak. Evidently she is without food for some days. How noble if one could sacrifice one's own body for their sake!"
"But who is willing to make such great sacrifice!" remarked Maha Deva.
"Surely, no one would be able to do so," stated Maha Prashada.
"I lack intelligence. Ignorant people like us would not be able to sacrifice their bodies for the sake of another. But there may be selfless men of boundless compassion who would be willingly do so," said Mahasattva in a merciful tone.
Thus they discussed amongst themselves and casting a last glance at the helpless tigress, they departed.
Mahasattva thought to himself, "Sacrifice I must this fleeting body for the sake of this starving tigress. Foul is this body, and is subject to decay and death. One may adorn and perfume it, but soon it will stink and perish."
Reflecting thus, he requested his brothers to proceed as he would retiring to the forest for some reason or other.
He retraced his steps to the place where the tigress was resting. Hanging his garments and ornaments on a tree, again he thought, "Work I must for the weal of others. Compassionate we must be towards all beings. To serve those who need our succour is our paramount duty. This foul body of mine will I sacrifice and thus save the tigress and her five cubs. By this meritorious act may I gain Samma Sambuddhahood and save all beings from the ocean of Samsara! May all beings be well and happy!"
Moved by compassion and inspired by the spirit of selfless service, dauntlessly he jumped off the precipice towards the tigress.
The fall did not result in an instantaneous death. The tigress, though ruthless by nature, pitied the Bodhisattva and would not even touch his body.
The Bodhisattva thought otherwise, "Obviously the poor animal is too weak to devour me!"
So he went in search of a weapon. He came across a bamboo splinter, and drawing near the tigress, he cut off his neck and fell dead on the ground in a pool of blood.
The hungry tigress greedily drank the blood and devoured the flesh leaving mere bones.
At the moment the Bodhisattva sacrificed his body, the earth quaked, the water of the ocean were disturbed, the sun's ray dimmed, eye-sight was temporarily blurred, Devas gave cries of Sadhu, and Parijata flowers came down as rain from heaven.
Affected by the earthquake, the two elder brothers rightly guessed that their younger brother must have become a prey to the tigress.
"Surely, Mahasattva must have sacrificed his life, for he spoke in a very merciful tone," said Maha Deva.
Both of them turned back and went to the spot. They were horrified and awe-struck at the unexpected spectacle. What they saw was not their belovedbrother but a mass of bone besmeared with blood. On a tree close by they saw the hanging garments.
They wept and fainted and on regaining consciousness, they returned home with a heavy heart.
On the very day the Bodhisattva sacrificed his life the mother-queen dreamt that she was dead, that her teeth had fallen out, and that she experienced a pain as if her body were cut by a sharp weapon. Furthermore, she dreamt that a hawk came drooping down and carried one of the three beautiful pigeons that were perched on the roof.
The queen was frightened, and on waking she remembered that her princes had gone for an airing in the forest. She hastened to the king and related the inauspicious dreams.
On being informed that the princes were missing, she entreated the king to send messengers in search of them.
Some ministers who had gone earlier to search for them returned to the palace with the sad news of the lamentable deadth of the youngest prince. Hearing it nobody was able to refrain from weeping. The king, however, comforted the queen and, mounting an elephant, speedily proceeded to the forest with his attendants and brought back the other two grieving sons.
So great was their grief that at first the were speechless. Later summoning up courage, they explained to their bereaved mother the heroic deed of their noble brother.
Soon order was given by the king to make necessary arrangements for them all to visit the memorable scene of the incident.
All reached the spot in due course. At the mere sight of the blood-smeared bones of the dearest son scattered here and there, both the king and queen fainted. The Purohita Bhahmin instantly poured sandal wood water over them, and they regained consciousness.
Thereupon, the king ordered his ministers to gather all the hair, bones, and garments and, heaping them together, worshipped them. Advising them to erect a golden Cetiya enshrining the relics, with a grieving heart, he departed to his palace.
The Cetiya was afterwards named "Om Namo Buddha."
Why read the Gosho regularly?
Let's read the Gosho regularly. Even just a little is fine. Even a single sentence. Just opening the Gosho is a start. At any rate, let's strive to read the Daishonin's writings. It's important to have the spirit to study the Gosho, to open up the Gosho. Even if you forget what you've read, something profound will have been engraved in the depths of your life.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 11/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 11/8
What is the purpose of SGI activities?
From one perspective, Buddhist practice means plunging into the midst of the people and striving to strengthen our life force to the greatest extent. The purpose of SGI activities is for each of us to be able to build a strong, invincible, diamond-like self that can overcome every difficulty and blaze a way forward wherever we go. Obstacles are a golden opportunity to quickly forge an inner self that is as indestructible as a diamond, able to endure for eternity.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 10/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 10/8
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Kunala
(From Master Cheng Yen Tells a Story
Translated by Lin Sen-shou)
After Buddha passed away, there was a king named Usika. He was very kind and his government was very compassionate. He had a son with eyes as beautiful as the kunala, an Indian bird famous for its beautiful eyes. Because the king liked this kind of bird, he named his son Kunala. When Prince Kunala grew up, he was very handsome. His conduct was proper and he was very kind.
King Usika was a devoted Buddhist. One day, the king brought his son to a temple, and he asked a monk named Yasa about the Buddhist teachings. Yasa looked at the young prince. "Human life is impermanent," he said. "A body goes through the stages of birth, aging, illness and death, and human life is filled with impurity. Who can have the beauty of youth forever? All these are illusions. In the same way, although the prince's eyes seem beautiful, they are actually full of filth and the source of trouble."
The prince was quite puzzled. Everyone always praised him for his beautiful eyes, but why would the monk say that they were dirty and the source of trouble? These words kept whirling around in his head.
There were many concubines in the king's palace. One young lady was deeply attracted by Kunala's good looks. When she saw him sitting alone in the garden one day, she started to fondle him, trying to seduce him. But the prince was a righteous person and could not agree to such behavior. He pulled himself together and freed himself from her unwanted attentions.
Later, when the young prince was old enough to marry, King Usika found a wife for him. When the concubine saw the lover of her dreams married to someone else, she became intensely jealous and her love turned to hatred.
Not long after the marriage, the king became sick and the young concubine looked after him carefully until he recovered. He was grateful for her care and said to her, "Because you took care of me for such a long time, I will give you anything you desire."
She said, "I just want to rule the country for seven days."
The king thought to himself that since he had promised, he couldn't go back on his word. Besides, it was only for seven days. So he agreed.
When she was on the throne, the young lady wrote a letter filled with both love and hate and sent it to Prince Kunala. She wrote that her fury would only be placated if she never saw his eyes again. Now the prince finally realized what that monk had meant, but it was too late. The lady's word was like the king's command, and it couldn't be disobeyed.
Kunala reluctantly gouged out one eye and held it in his hand. "It's so disgusting," he suddenly realized. "Why would such a filthy little thing be praised by so many people and bring so much trouble? Since she wants both eyes, I'll take out the other one too." When both eyes were gone, everything before him was in total darkness, but his mind was suddenly filled with light. He felt the peace that comes from spiritual exaltation.
When his wife heard the news, she ran to the blind prince and started to wail with grief. But the prince was calm and consoled her with the Buddhist teachings. "Human life is impermanent, so don't harbor hatred or worry, because hatred and worry are your greatest enemies."
At that time, a bodyguard warned the prince, "Your Highness, if you stay in the palace, I'm afraid that your life will be in danger." The prince, of course, was already aware of this, and since he didn't want the court lady to continue making bad karma for herself by doing something even worse, he and his wife fled the palace. They learned to play the lute and to sing, and they wandered from town to town, making music in the streets. People would throw them a few coins, and in this way, the prince and his wife were able to feed themselves.
A few years later, they happened to come back to the capital. One day, they wandered into the streets alongside the palace and started to sing. When King Usika heard the beautiful but mournful songs, he thought of his son, who had suddenly disappeared years before. He told his attendant to invite the musicians to enter the palace.
When the king saw the lute player, he realized that it was indeed the son that he had been thinking of day and night. When he saw how Prince Kunala had fallen from his royal life and was now only a blind lute-player singing on the streets for a living, the king was very distressed. He asked the prince, "Who did this to you? Who made you lose your sight?" But Kunala refused to talk about it. He just told his father about the truths that he had learned, hoping his father would calm down.
At last, the ministers and the guards couldn't endure it any more and reported the truth to the king. He was furious and wanted to execute that concubine, but the prince begged his father to forgive her.
The king was touched by Prince Kunala's compassion and released the young concubine. However, in her own conscience, she was ashamed of herself and finally committed suicide. Because of her impure love, she had created trouble and hatred, hurt other people and destroyed herself. Was it all worth it?
Translated by Lin Sen-shou)
After Buddha passed away, there was a king named Usika. He was very kind and his government was very compassionate. He had a son with eyes as beautiful as the kunala, an Indian bird famous for its beautiful eyes. Because the king liked this kind of bird, he named his son Kunala. When Prince Kunala grew up, he was very handsome. His conduct was proper and he was very kind.
King Usika was a devoted Buddhist. One day, the king brought his son to a temple, and he asked a monk named Yasa about the Buddhist teachings. Yasa looked at the young prince. "Human life is impermanent," he said. "A body goes through the stages of birth, aging, illness and death, and human life is filled with impurity. Who can have the beauty of youth forever? All these are illusions. In the same way, although the prince's eyes seem beautiful, they are actually full of filth and the source of trouble."
The prince was quite puzzled. Everyone always praised him for his beautiful eyes, but why would the monk say that they were dirty and the source of trouble? These words kept whirling around in his head.
There were many concubines in the king's palace. One young lady was deeply attracted by Kunala's good looks. When she saw him sitting alone in the garden one day, she started to fondle him, trying to seduce him. But the prince was a righteous person and could not agree to such behavior. He pulled himself together and freed himself from her unwanted attentions.
Later, when the young prince was old enough to marry, King Usika found a wife for him. When the concubine saw the lover of her dreams married to someone else, she became intensely jealous and her love turned to hatred.
Not long after the marriage, the king became sick and the young concubine looked after him carefully until he recovered. He was grateful for her care and said to her, "Because you took care of me for such a long time, I will give you anything you desire."
She said, "I just want to rule the country for seven days."
The king thought to himself that since he had promised, he couldn't go back on his word. Besides, it was only for seven days. So he agreed.
When she was on the throne, the young lady wrote a letter filled with both love and hate and sent it to Prince Kunala. She wrote that her fury would only be placated if she never saw his eyes again. Now the prince finally realized what that monk had meant, but it was too late. The lady's word was like the king's command, and it couldn't be disobeyed.
Kunala reluctantly gouged out one eye and held it in his hand. "It's so disgusting," he suddenly realized. "Why would such a filthy little thing be praised by so many people and bring so much trouble? Since she wants both eyes, I'll take out the other one too." When both eyes were gone, everything before him was in total darkness, but his mind was suddenly filled with light. He felt the peace that comes from spiritual exaltation.
When his wife heard the news, she ran to the blind prince and started to wail with grief. But the prince was calm and consoled her with the Buddhist teachings. "Human life is impermanent, so don't harbor hatred or worry, because hatred and worry are your greatest enemies."
At that time, a bodyguard warned the prince, "Your Highness, if you stay in the palace, I'm afraid that your life will be in danger." The prince, of course, was already aware of this, and since he didn't want the court lady to continue making bad karma for herself by doing something even worse, he and his wife fled the palace. They learned to play the lute and to sing, and they wandered from town to town, making music in the streets. People would throw them a few coins, and in this way, the prince and his wife were able to feed themselves.
A few years later, they happened to come back to the capital. One day, they wandered into the streets alongside the palace and started to sing. When King Usika heard the beautiful but mournful songs, he thought of his son, who had suddenly disappeared years before. He told his attendant to invite the musicians to enter the palace.
When the king saw the lute player, he realized that it was indeed the son that he had been thinking of day and night. When he saw how Prince Kunala had fallen from his royal life and was now only a blind lute-player singing on the streets for a living, the king was very distressed. He asked the prince, "Who did this to you? Who made you lose your sight?" But Kunala refused to talk about it. He just told his father about the truths that he had learned, hoping his father would calm down.
At last, the ministers and the guards couldn't endure it any more and reported the truth to the king. He was furious and wanted to execute that concubine, but the prince begged his father to forgive her.
The king was touched by Prince Kunala's compassion and released the young concubine. However, in her own conscience, she was ashamed of herself and finally committed suicide. Because of her impure love, she had created trouble and hatred, hurt other people and destroyed herself. Was it all worth it?
What is a person's true worth and greatness?
The course of our lives is determined by how we react—what we decide and what we do—at the darkest of times. The nature of that response determines a person's true worth and greatness.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 9/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 9/8
How to face an age which is pervaded by great weariness and apathy?
The present, as I am sure you all sense, is an age pervaded by great weariness and apathy. I would like you to be aware that the power and energy to serve humanity in such an enervated age can only be born from a vigorous, indomitable, noble will. Though the times may be rife with petty human conflicts, a pervading sense of hopelessness and all manner of turbulent storms, I hope that all of you will forge ahead boldly, with unflagging good cheer.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 8/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 8/8
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The massacre of the Sakya clansmen
Before the advent of Sakyamuni Buddha, there was near Kapila town a village inhabited by fishermen, and in it was a big pond. It happened that because of a great drought, the pond ran dry and all the fish were caught and eaten by the villagers. The last fish taken was a big one and before it was killed, a boy who never ate fish, played with it and thrice knocked its head.
Later, after Sakyamuni Buddha's appearance in this world, King Prasenajit who believed in the Buddha-dharma, married a Sakya girl who then gave birth to a prince called Crsytal. When he was young, Crystal had his schooling in Kapila which was then inhabited by the Sakya clansmen. One day while playing, the boy ascended to the Buddha's seat and was reprimanded by others who dragged him down. The boy cherished a grudge against the men and when he became king, he led his soldiers to attack Kapila, killing all its inhabitants.
At the same time, the Buddha suffered from a headache which lasted three days. When His disciples asked Him to rescue the poor inhabitants, the Buddha replied that a fixed Karma could not be changed. By means of his miraculous powers, Maudgalyayana rescued five hundred Sakya clansmen and thought he could give them refuge in his own bowl which was raised up in the air. When the bowl was brought down, all the men had been turned into blood.
When asked by His chief disciples, the Buddha related the story of the villagers who in days gone by had killed all the fish in their pond; King Crystal had been the big fish and his soldiers the other fish in the pond; the inhabitants of Kapila who were now killed had been those who ate the fish; and the Buddha Himself had been the boy who thrice knocked the head of the big fish. Karma was now causing Him to suffer from a headache for three days in retribution for his previous act. Since there could be no escape from the effects of a fixed Karma, the five hundred Sakya clansmen, although rescued by Maudgalyayana, shared the same fate. Later, King Crystal was reborn in a hell.
As cause produces effect which in turn becomes a new cause the retribution is inexhaustible. The law of causality is really very dreadful.
Later, after Sakyamuni Buddha's appearance in this world, King Prasenajit who believed in the Buddha-dharma, married a Sakya girl who then gave birth to a prince called Crsytal. When he was young, Crystal had his schooling in Kapila which was then inhabited by the Sakya clansmen. One day while playing, the boy ascended to the Buddha's seat and was reprimanded by others who dragged him down. The boy cherished a grudge against the men and when he became king, he led his soldiers to attack Kapila, killing all its inhabitants.
At the same time, the Buddha suffered from a headache which lasted three days. When His disciples asked Him to rescue the poor inhabitants, the Buddha replied that a fixed Karma could not be changed. By means of his miraculous powers, Maudgalyayana rescued five hundred Sakya clansmen and thought he could give them refuge in his own bowl which was raised up in the air. When the bowl was brought down, all the men had been turned into blood.
When asked by His chief disciples, the Buddha related the story of the villagers who in days gone by had killed all the fish in their pond; King Crystal had been the big fish and his soldiers the other fish in the pond; the inhabitants of Kapila who were now killed had been those who ate the fish; and the Buddha Himself had been the boy who thrice knocked the head of the big fish. Karma was now causing Him to suffer from a headache for three days in retribution for his previous act. Since there could be no escape from the effects of a fixed Karma, the five hundred Sakya clansmen, although rescued by Maudgalyayana, shared the same fate. Later, King Crystal was reborn in a hell.
As cause produces effect which in turn becomes a new cause the retribution is inexhaustible. The law of causality is really very dreadful.
What is halfhearted pronouncement?
Gandhi stressed the importance of being resolute in one's determinations: "A man who says that he will do something 'as far as possible' betrays either his pride or his weakness, though he himself may attribute it to his humility. There is, in fact, not a trace of humility in such an attitude of mind." In short, he asserts that someone who makes halfhearted pronouncements is either arrogant or cowardly.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 7/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 7/8
Why and what we should do?
Youth, and indeed life itself, flashes by in the blink of an eye. That is why it is important for you to ask yourselves what you can do for those who are suffering, what you can do to resolve the mournful contradictions that plague society, and boldly take on these great challenges without shunning the problems and difficulties you will inevitably face.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 6/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 6/8
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The Traders of Seriva
Serivavanija Jataka (Jataka No. 3)
So that a disheartened bhikkhu would have no regrets in the future, the Buddha told him this story at Savatthi to encourage him to persevere. "If you give up your practice in this sublime teaching which leads to Nibbana," the Buddha told him, "you will suffer long, like the trader of Seriva who lost a golden bowl worth a hundred thousand pieces."
When asked to explain, the Buddha told this story of the distant past.
Five long aeons ago, the Bodhisatta was an honest trader selling fancy goods in the kingdom of Seriva. Sometimes he travelled with another trader from the same kingdom, a greedy fellow, who handled the same wares.
One day the two of them crossed the Telavaha river to do business in the bustling city of Andhapura. As usual, to avoid competing with each other, they divided the city between them and began selling their goods from door to door.
In that city there was a ramshackle mansion. Years before the family had been rich merchants, but by the time of this story their fortunes had dwindled to nothing, and all the men of the family had died. The sole survivors were a girl and her grandmother, and these two earned their living by working for hire.
That afternoon, while the greedy peddler was on his rounds, he came to the door of that very house, crying, "Beads for sale! Beads for sale!"
When the young girl heard his cry, she begged, "Please buy me a trinket, Grandmother."
"We're very poor, dear. There's not a cent in the house and I can't think of anything to offer in exchange."
The girl suddenly remembered an old bowl. "Look!" she cried. "Here's an old bowl. It's of no use to us. Let's try to trade it for something nice."
What the little girl showed her grandmother was an old bowl which had been used by the great merchant, the late head of the family. He had always eaten his curries served from this beautiful, expensive bowl. After his death it had been thrown among the pots and pans and forgotten. Since it hadn't been used for a very long time, it was completely covered with grime. The two women had no idea it was gold.
The old woman asked the trader to come in and sit down. She showed him the bowl and said, "Sir, my granddaughter would like a trinket. Would you be so kind as to take this bowl and give her something or other in exchange?"
The peddler took the bowl in his hand and turned it over. Suspecting its value, he scratched the back of it with a needle. After just one covert look, he knew for certain the bowl was real gold.
He sat there frowning and thinking until his greed got the better of him. At last he decided to try to get the bowl without giving the woman anything whatever for it. Pretending to be angry, he growled, "Why did you bring me this stupid bowl? It isn't worth half a cent!" He threw the bowl to the floor, got up, and stalked out of the house in apparent disgust.
Since it had been agreed between the two traders that the one might try the streets which the other had already covered, the honest peddler came later into that same street and appeared at the door of the house, crying, "Beads for sale!"
Once again the young girl made the same request of her grandmother, and the old woman replied, "My dear, the first peddler threw our bowl on the ground and stormed out of the house. What have we got left to offer?"
"Oh, but that trader was nasty, Grandmother. This one looks and sounds very kind. I think he will take it."
"All right, then. Call him in."
When the peddler came into the house, the two women gave him a seat and shyly put the bowl into his hands. Immediately recognizing that the bowl was gold, he said, "Mother, this bowl is worth a hundred thousand pieces of silver. I'm sorry but I don't have that much money."
Astonished at his words, the old woman said, "Sir, another peddler who came here a little while ago said that it was not worth half a cent. He got angry, threw it on the floor, and went away. If it wasn't valuable then, it must be because of your own goodness that the bowl has turned into gold. Please take it, and just give us something or other for it. We will be more than satisfied."
At that time the peddler had only five hundred pieces of silver and goods worth another five hundred. He gave everything to the women, asking only to keep his scales, his bag, and eight coins for his return fare. Of course, they were happy to agree. After profuse thanks on both sides, the trader hurried to the river with the golden bowl. He gave his eight coins to the boatman and got into the boat.
Not long after he had left, the greedy peddler returned to the house, giving the impression of having reluctantly reconsidered their offer. He asked them to bring out their bowl, saying he would give them something or other for it after all.
The old woman flew at him. "You scoundrel!" she cried. "You told us that our golden bowl was not worth even half a cent. Lucky for us, an honest trader came after you left and told us it was really worth a hundred thousand pieces of silver. He gave us a thousand for it and took it away, so you are too late!"
When the peddler heard this, an intense pain swept over him. "He robbed me! He robbed me!" he cried. "He got my golden bowl worth a hundred thousand!" He became hysterical and lost all control. Throwing down his money and merchandise, he tore off his shirt, grabbed the beam of his scales for a club, and ran to the riverside to catch the other trader.
By the time he got to the river, the boat was already in midstream. He shouted for the boat to return to shore, but the honest peddler, who had already paid, calmly told the ferryman to continue on.
The frustrated trader could only stand there on the river-bank and watch his rival escape with the bowl. The sight so infuriated him that a fierce hate swelled up inside him. His heart grew hot, and blood gushed from his mouth. Finally, his heart cracked like the mud at the bottom of a pond dried up by the sun. So intense was the unreasoning hatred which he developed against the other trader because of the golden bowl, that he perished then and there.
The honest trader returned to Seriva, where he lived a full life spent in charity and other good works, and passed away to fare according to his deserts.
When the Buddha finished this story, he identified himself as the honest trader, and Devadatta as the greedy trader. This was the beginning of the implacable grudge which Devadatta held against the Bodhisatta through innumerable lives.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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So that a disheartened bhikkhu would have no regrets in the future, the Buddha told him this story at Savatthi to encourage him to persevere. "If you give up your practice in this sublime teaching which leads to Nibbana," the Buddha told him, "you will suffer long, like the trader of Seriva who lost a golden bowl worth a hundred thousand pieces."
When asked to explain, the Buddha told this story of the distant past.
Five long aeons ago, the Bodhisatta was an honest trader selling fancy goods in the kingdom of Seriva. Sometimes he travelled with another trader from the same kingdom, a greedy fellow, who handled the same wares.
One day the two of them crossed the Telavaha river to do business in the bustling city of Andhapura. As usual, to avoid competing with each other, they divided the city between them and began selling their goods from door to door.
In that city there was a ramshackle mansion. Years before the family had been rich merchants, but by the time of this story their fortunes had dwindled to nothing, and all the men of the family had died. The sole survivors were a girl and her grandmother, and these two earned their living by working for hire.
That afternoon, while the greedy peddler was on his rounds, he came to the door of that very house, crying, "Beads for sale! Beads for sale!"
When the young girl heard his cry, she begged, "Please buy me a trinket, Grandmother."
"We're very poor, dear. There's not a cent in the house and I can't think of anything to offer in exchange."
The girl suddenly remembered an old bowl. "Look!" she cried. "Here's an old bowl. It's of no use to us. Let's try to trade it for something nice."
What the little girl showed her grandmother was an old bowl which had been used by the great merchant, the late head of the family. He had always eaten his curries served from this beautiful, expensive bowl. After his death it had been thrown among the pots and pans and forgotten. Since it hadn't been used for a very long time, it was completely covered with grime. The two women had no idea it was gold.
The old woman asked the trader to come in and sit down. She showed him the bowl and said, "Sir, my granddaughter would like a trinket. Would you be so kind as to take this bowl and give her something or other in exchange?"
The peddler took the bowl in his hand and turned it over. Suspecting its value, he scratched the back of it with a needle. After just one covert look, he knew for certain the bowl was real gold.
He sat there frowning and thinking until his greed got the better of him. At last he decided to try to get the bowl without giving the woman anything whatever for it. Pretending to be angry, he growled, "Why did you bring me this stupid bowl? It isn't worth half a cent!" He threw the bowl to the floor, got up, and stalked out of the house in apparent disgust.
Since it had been agreed between the two traders that the one might try the streets which the other had already covered, the honest peddler came later into that same street and appeared at the door of the house, crying, "Beads for sale!"
Once again the young girl made the same request of her grandmother, and the old woman replied, "My dear, the first peddler threw our bowl on the ground and stormed out of the house. What have we got left to offer?"
"Oh, but that trader was nasty, Grandmother. This one looks and sounds very kind. I think he will take it."
"All right, then. Call him in."
When the peddler came into the house, the two women gave him a seat and shyly put the bowl into his hands. Immediately recognizing that the bowl was gold, he said, "Mother, this bowl is worth a hundred thousand pieces of silver. I'm sorry but I don't have that much money."
Astonished at his words, the old woman said, "Sir, another peddler who came here a little while ago said that it was not worth half a cent. He got angry, threw it on the floor, and went away. If it wasn't valuable then, it must be because of your own goodness that the bowl has turned into gold. Please take it, and just give us something or other for it. We will be more than satisfied."
At that time the peddler had only five hundred pieces of silver and goods worth another five hundred. He gave everything to the women, asking only to keep his scales, his bag, and eight coins for his return fare. Of course, they were happy to agree. After profuse thanks on both sides, the trader hurried to the river with the golden bowl. He gave his eight coins to the boatman and got into the boat.
Not long after he had left, the greedy peddler returned to the house, giving the impression of having reluctantly reconsidered their offer. He asked them to bring out their bowl, saying he would give them something or other for it after all.
The old woman flew at him. "You scoundrel!" she cried. "You told us that our golden bowl was not worth even half a cent. Lucky for us, an honest trader came after you left and told us it was really worth a hundred thousand pieces of silver. He gave us a thousand for it and took it away, so you are too late!"
When the peddler heard this, an intense pain swept over him. "He robbed me! He robbed me!" he cried. "He got my golden bowl worth a hundred thousand!" He became hysterical and lost all control. Throwing down his money and merchandise, he tore off his shirt, grabbed the beam of his scales for a club, and ran to the riverside to catch the other trader.
By the time he got to the river, the boat was already in midstream. He shouted for the boat to return to shore, but the honest peddler, who had already paid, calmly told the ferryman to continue on.
The frustrated trader could only stand there on the river-bank and watch his rival escape with the bowl. The sight so infuriated him that a fierce hate swelled up inside him. His heart grew hot, and blood gushed from his mouth. Finally, his heart cracked like the mud at the bottom of a pond dried up by the sun. So intense was the unreasoning hatred which he developed against the other trader because of the golden bowl, that he perished then and there.
The honest trader returned to Seriva, where he lived a full life spent in charity and other good works, and passed away to fare according to his deserts.
When the Buddha finished this story, he identified himself as the honest trader, and Devadatta as the greedy trader. This was the beginning of the implacable grudge which Devadatta held against the Bodhisatta through innumerable lives.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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How to built true character?
We cannot build true character if we allow ourselves to be swayed by passing praise or censure. "Don't concern yourself with petty criticisms! Commune constantly with fine books and fine people and improve yourself!" This was the creed by which Mr. Makiguchi and Mr. Toda lived their lives.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 5/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 5/8
How to accomplish your goals?
The resolve to accomplish your goals is what counts. If you earnestly put your mind to something, your brain, your body, your environment—everything—will start working toward achieving that end.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 4/8
Monday, April 4, 2011
Why should we expand beyond our small and limited selves?
As human beings, let us reach beyond our small, limited selves and attain an all-encompassing state of being, our hearts communing with the vast universe.
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 3/8
For Today and Tomorrow
Daily Encouragement by Daisaku Ikeda 3/8
Crossing the Wilderness
Apannaka Jataka (Jataka No. 1)
While the Buddha was staying at Jetavana Monastery near Savatthi, the wealthy banker, Anathapindika, went one day to pay his respects. His servants carried masses of flowers, perfume, butter, oil, honey, molasses, cloths, and robes. Anathapindika paid obeisance to the Buddha, presented the offerings he had brought, and sat down respectfully. At that time, Anathapindika was accompanied by five hundred friends who were followers of heretical teachers. His friends also paid their respects to the Buddha and sat close to the banker. The Buddha's face appeared like a full moon, and his body was surrounded by a radiant aura. Seated on the red stone seat, he was like a young lion roaring with a clear, noble voice as he taught them a discourse full of sweetness and beautiful to the ear.
After hearing the Buddha's teaching, the five hundred gave up their heretical practices and took refuge in the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. After that, they went regularly with Anathapindika to offer flowers and incense and to hear the teaching. They gave liberally, kept the precepts, and faithfully observed the Uposatha Day. [1] Soon after the Buddha left Savatthi to return to Rajagaha, however, these men abandoned their new faith and reverted to their previous beliefs.
Seven or eight months later, the Buddha returned to Jetavana. Again, Anathapindika brought these friends to visit the Buddha. They paid their respects, but Anathapindika explained that they had forsaken their refuge and had resumed their original practices.
The Buddha asked, "Is it true that you have abandoned refuge in the Triple Gem for refuge in other doctrines?" The Buddha's voice was incredibly clear because throughout myriad aeons He had always spoken truthfully.
When these men heard it, they were unable to conceal the truth. "Yes, Blessed One," they confessed. "It is true."
"Disciples," the Buddha said "nowhere between the lowest of hells below and the highest heaven above, nowhere in all the infinite worlds that stretch right and left, is there the equal, much less the superior, of a Buddha. Incalculable is the excellence which springs from obeying the Precepts and from other virtuous conduct."
Then he declared the virtues of the Triple Gem. "By taking refuge in the Triple Gem," He told them, "one escapes from rebirth in states of suffering." He further explained that meditation on the Triple Gem leads through the four stages to Enlightenment.
"In forsaking such a refuge as this," he admonished them, "you have certainly erred. In the past, too, men who foolishly mistook what was no refuge for a real refuge, met disaster. Actually, they fell prey to yakkhas -- evil spirits -- in the wilderness and were utterly destroyed. In contrast, men who clung to the truth not only survived, but actually prospered in that same wilderness."
Anathapindika raised his clasped hands to his forehead, praised the Buddha, and asked him to tell that story of the past.
"In order to dispel the world's ignorance and to conquer suffering," the Buddha proclaimed, "I practiced the Ten Perfections for countless aeons. Listen carefully, and I will speak."
Having their full attention, the Buddha made clear, as though he were releasing the full moon from behind clouds, what rebirth had concealed from them.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born into a merchant's family and grew up to be a wise trader. At the same time, in the same city, there was another merchant, a very stupid fellow, with no common sense whatsoever.
One day it so happened that the two merchants each loaded five hundred carts with costly wares of Baranasi and prepared to leave in the same direction at exactly the same time. The wise merchant thought, "If this silly young fool travels with me and if our thousand carts stay together, it will be too much for the road. Finding wood and water for the men will be difficult, and there won't be enough grass for the oxen. Either he or I must go first."
"Look," he said to the other merchant, "the two of us can't travel together. Would you rather go first or follow after me?"
The foolish trader thought, "There will be many advantages if I take the lead. I'll get a road which is not yet cut up. My oxen will have the pick of the grass. My men will get the choicest wild herbs for curry. The water will be undisturbed. Best of all, I'll be able to fix my own price for bartering my goods." Considering all these advantages, he said, "I will go ahead of you, my friend."
The Bodhisatta was pleased to hear this because he saw many advantages in following after. He reasoned, "Those carts going first will level the road where it is rough, and I'll be able to travel along the road they have already smoothed. Their oxen will graze off the coarse old grass, and mine will pasture on the sweet young growth which will spring up in its place. My men will find fresh sweet herbs for curry where the old ones have been picked. Where there is no water, the first caravan will have to dig to supply themselves, and we'll be able to drink at the wells they have dug. Haggling over prices is tiring work; he'll do the work, and I will be able to barter my wares at prices he has already fixed."
"Very well, my friend," he said, "please go first."
"I will," said the foolish merchant, and he yoked his carts and set out. After a while he came to the outskirts of a wilderness. He filled all of his huge water jars with water before setting out to cross the sixty yojanas [2] of desert which lay before him.
The yakkha who haunted that wilderness had been watching the caravan. When it had reached the middle, he used his magic power to conjure up a lovely carriage drawn by pure white young bulls. With a retinue of a dozen disguised yakkhas carrying swords and shields, he rode along in his carriage like a mighty lord. His hair and clothes were wet, and he had a wreath of blue lotuses and white water lilies around his head. His attendants also were dripping wet and draped in garlands. Even the bulls' hooves and carriage wheels were muddy.
As the wind was blowing from the front, the merchant was riding at the head of his caravan to escape the dust. The yakkha drew his carriage beside the merchant's and greeted him kindly. The merchant returned the greeting and moved his own carriage to one side to allow the carts to pass while he and the yakkha chatted.
"We are on our way from Baranasi, sir," explained the merchant. "I see that your men are all wet and muddy and that you have lotuses and water lilies. Did it rain while you were on the road? Did you come across pools with lotuses and water lilies?"
"What do you mean?" the yakkha exclaimed. "Over there is the dark-green streak of a jungle. Beyond that there is plenty of water. It is always raining there, and there are many lakes with lotuses and water lilies." Then, pretending to be interested in the merchant's business, he asked, "What do you have in these carts?"
"Expensive merchandise," answered the merchant.
"What is in this cart which seems so heavily laden?" the yakkha asked as the last cart rolled by.
"That's full of water."
"You were wise to carry water with you this far, but there is no need for it now, since water is so abundant ahead. You could travel much faster and lighter without those heavy jars. You'd be better off breaking them and throwing the water away. Well, good day," he said suddenly, as he turned his carriage. "We must be on our way. We have stopped too long already." He rode away quickly with his men. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned and made his way back to his own city.
The merchant was so foolish that he followed the yakkha's advice. He broke all the jars, without saving even a single cupful of water, and ordered the men to drive on quickly. Of course, they did not find any water, and they were soon exhausted from thirst. At sunset they drew their carts into a circle and tethered the oxen to the wheels, but there was no water for the weary animals. Without water, the men could not cook any rice either. They sank to the ground and fell asleep. As soon as night came, the yakkhas attacked, killing every single man and beast. The fiends devoured the flesh, leaving only the bones, and departed. Skeletons were strewn in every direction, but the five hundred carts stood with their loads untouched. Thus the heedless young merchant was the sole cause of the destruction of the entire caravan.
Allowing six weeks to pass after the foolish trader had left, the Bodhisatta set out with his five hundred carts. When he reached the edge of the wilderness, he filled his water jars. Then he assembled his men and announced, "Let not so much as a handful of water be used without my permission. Furthermore, there are poisonous plants in this wilderness. Do not eat any leaf, flower, or fruit which you have never eaten before, without showing it to me first." Having thus carefully warned his men, he led the caravan into the wilderness.
When they had reached the middle of the wilderness, the yakkha appeared on the path just as before. The merchant noticed his red eyes and fearless manner and suspected something strange. "I know there is no water in this desert," he said to himself. "Furthermore, this stranger casts no shadow. He must be a yakkha. He probably tricked the foolish merchant, but he doesn't realize how clever I am."
"Get out of here!" he shouted at the yakkha. "We are men of business. We do not throw away our water before we see where more is to come from!"
Without saying any more, the yakkha rode away.
As soon as the yakkhas had left, the merchant's men approached their leader and said, "Sir, those men were wearing lotuses and water lilies on their heads. Their clothes and hair were wringing wet. They told us that up ahead there is a thick forest where it is always raining. Let us throw away our water so that we can proceed quicker with lightened carts."
The merchant ordered a halt and summoned all his men. "Has any man among you ever heard before today," he asked, "that there was a lake or a pool in this wilderness?"
"No, sir," they answered. "It's known as the 'Waterless Desert.' "
"We have just been told by some strangers that it is raining in the forest just ahead. How far does a rain-wind carry?"
"A yojana, sir."
"Has any man here seen the top of even a single storm-cloud?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can you see a flash of lightning?"
"Four or five yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here seen a flash of lightning?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can a man hear a peal of thunder?"
"Two or three yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here heard a peal of thunder?"
"No, sir."
"Those were not men, but yakkhas," the wise merchant told his men. "They are hoping that we will throw away our water. Then, when we are weak and faint, they will return to devour us. Since the young merchant who went before us was not a man of good sense, most likely he was fooled by them. We may expect to find his carts standing just as they were first loaded. We will probably see them today. Press on with all possible speed, without throwing away a drop of water!"
Just as the merchant had predicted, his caravan soon came upon the five hundred carts with the skeletons of men and oxen strewn in every direction. He ordered his men to arrange his carts in a fortified circle, to take care of the oxen, and to prepare an early supper for themselves. After the animals and men had all safely bedded down, the merchant and his foremen, swords in hand, stood guard all through the night.
At daybreak the merchant replaced his own weak carts for stronger ones and exchanged his own common goods for the most costly of the abandoned merchandise. When he arrived at his destination, he was able to barter his stock of wares at two or three times their value. He returned to his own city without losing a single man out of all his company.
This story ended, the Buddha said, "Thus it was, laymen, that in times past, the foolish came to utter destruction, while those who clung to the truth escaped from the yakkhas' hands, reached their goal in safety, and returned to their homes again.
"This clinging to the truth not only endows happiness even up to rebirth in the Realm of Brahma, [3] but also leads ultimately to Arahatship. Following untruth entails rebirth either in the four states of punishment or in the lowest conditions of mankind." After the Buddha had expounded the Four Truths, those five hundred disciples were established in the Fruit of the First Path.
The Buddha concluded his lesson by identifying the Birth as follows: "The foolish young merchant was Devadatta, [4] and his men were Devadatta's followers. The wise merchant's men were the followers of the Buddha, and I myself was that wise merchant."
Notes:
1. The Uposatha is the full, new, and half-moon days, when many Buddhists observe the Eight Precepts.
2. Yojana: a unit of distance, about seven miles.
3. The Realm of Brahma refers to the highest heavens, where beings enjoy radiant bliss.
4. Devadatta was a cousin of the Buddha. He tried to kill the Master several times, but always failed.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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While the Buddha was staying at Jetavana Monastery near Savatthi, the wealthy banker, Anathapindika, went one day to pay his respects. His servants carried masses of flowers, perfume, butter, oil, honey, molasses, cloths, and robes. Anathapindika paid obeisance to the Buddha, presented the offerings he had brought, and sat down respectfully. At that time, Anathapindika was accompanied by five hundred friends who were followers of heretical teachers. His friends also paid their respects to the Buddha and sat close to the banker. The Buddha's face appeared like a full moon, and his body was surrounded by a radiant aura. Seated on the red stone seat, he was like a young lion roaring with a clear, noble voice as he taught them a discourse full of sweetness and beautiful to the ear.
After hearing the Buddha's teaching, the five hundred gave up their heretical practices and took refuge in the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha. After that, they went regularly with Anathapindika to offer flowers and incense and to hear the teaching. They gave liberally, kept the precepts, and faithfully observed the Uposatha Day. [1] Soon after the Buddha left Savatthi to return to Rajagaha, however, these men abandoned their new faith and reverted to their previous beliefs.
Seven or eight months later, the Buddha returned to Jetavana. Again, Anathapindika brought these friends to visit the Buddha. They paid their respects, but Anathapindika explained that they had forsaken their refuge and had resumed their original practices.
The Buddha asked, "Is it true that you have abandoned refuge in the Triple Gem for refuge in other doctrines?" The Buddha's voice was incredibly clear because throughout myriad aeons He had always spoken truthfully.
When these men heard it, they were unable to conceal the truth. "Yes, Blessed One," they confessed. "It is true."
"Disciples," the Buddha said "nowhere between the lowest of hells below and the highest heaven above, nowhere in all the infinite worlds that stretch right and left, is there the equal, much less the superior, of a Buddha. Incalculable is the excellence which springs from obeying the Precepts and from other virtuous conduct."
Then he declared the virtues of the Triple Gem. "By taking refuge in the Triple Gem," He told them, "one escapes from rebirth in states of suffering." He further explained that meditation on the Triple Gem leads through the four stages to Enlightenment.
"In forsaking such a refuge as this," he admonished them, "you have certainly erred. In the past, too, men who foolishly mistook what was no refuge for a real refuge, met disaster. Actually, they fell prey to yakkhas -- evil spirits -- in the wilderness and were utterly destroyed. In contrast, men who clung to the truth not only survived, but actually prospered in that same wilderness."
Anathapindika raised his clasped hands to his forehead, praised the Buddha, and asked him to tell that story of the past.
"In order to dispel the world's ignorance and to conquer suffering," the Buddha proclaimed, "I practiced the Ten Perfections for countless aeons. Listen carefully, and I will speak."
Having their full attention, the Buddha made clear, as though he were releasing the full moon from behind clouds, what rebirth had concealed from them.
Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Baranasi, the Bodhisatta was born into a merchant's family and grew up to be a wise trader. At the same time, in the same city, there was another merchant, a very stupid fellow, with no common sense whatsoever.
One day it so happened that the two merchants each loaded five hundred carts with costly wares of Baranasi and prepared to leave in the same direction at exactly the same time. The wise merchant thought, "If this silly young fool travels with me and if our thousand carts stay together, it will be too much for the road. Finding wood and water for the men will be difficult, and there won't be enough grass for the oxen. Either he or I must go first."
"Look," he said to the other merchant, "the two of us can't travel together. Would you rather go first or follow after me?"
The foolish trader thought, "There will be many advantages if I take the lead. I'll get a road which is not yet cut up. My oxen will have the pick of the grass. My men will get the choicest wild herbs for curry. The water will be undisturbed. Best of all, I'll be able to fix my own price for bartering my goods." Considering all these advantages, he said, "I will go ahead of you, my friend."
The Bodhisatta was pleased to hear this because he saw many advantages in following after. He reasoned, "Those carts going first will level the road where it is rough, and I'll be able to travel along the road they have already smoothed. Their oxen will graze off the coarse old grass, and mine will pasture on the sweet young growth which will spring up in its place. My men will find fresh sweet herbs for curry where the old ones have been picked. Where there is no water, the first caravan will have to dig to supply themselves, and we'll be able to drink at the wells they have dug. Haggling over prices is tiring work; he'll do the work, and I will be able to barter my wares at prices he has already fixed."
"Very well, my friend," he said, "please go first."
"I will," said the foolish merchant, and he yoked his carts and set out. After a while he came to the outskirts of a wilderness. He filled all of his huge water jars with water before setting out to cross the sixty yojanas [2] of desert which lay before him.
The yakkha who haunted that wilderness had been watching the caravan. When it had reached the middle, he used his magic power to conjure up a lovely carriage drawn by pure white young bulls. With a retinue of a dozen disguised yakkhas carrying swords and shields, he rode along in his carriage like a mighty lord. His hair and clothes were wet, and he had a wreath of blue lotuses and white water lilies around his head. His attendants also were dripping wet and draped in garlands. Even the bulls' hooves and carriage wheels were muddy.
As the wind was blowing from the front, the merchant was riding at the head of his caravan to escape the dust. The yakkha drew his carriage beside the merchant's and greeted him kindly. The merchant returned the greeting and moved his own carriage to one side to allow the carts to pass while he and the yakkha chatted.
"We are on our way from Baranasi, sir," explained the merchant. "I see that your men are all wet and muddy and that you have lotuses and water lilies. Did it rain while you were on the road? Did you come across pools with lotuses and water lilies?"
"What do you mean?" the yakkha exclaimed. "Over there is the dark-green streak of a jungle. Beyond that there is plenty of water. It is always raining there, and there are many lakes with lotuses and water lilies." Then, pretending to be interested in the merchant's business, he asked, "What do you have in these carts?"
"Expensive merchandise," answered the merchant.
"What is in this cart which seems so heavily laden?" the yakkha asked as the last cart rolled by.
"That's full of water."
"You were wise to carry water with you this far, but there is no need for it now, since water is so abundant ahead. You could travel much faster and lighter without those heavy jars. You'd be better off breaking them and throwing the water away. Well, good day," he said suddenly, as he turned his carriage. "We must be on our way. We have stopped too long already." He rode away quickly with his men. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned and made his way back to his own city.
The merchant was so foolish that he followed the yakkha's advice. He broke all the jars, without saving even a single cupful of water, and ordered the men to drive on quickly. Of course, they did not find any water, and they were soon exhausted from thirst. At sunset they drew their carts into a circle and tethered the oxen to the wheels, but there was no water for the weary animals. Without water, the men could not cook any rice either. They sank to the ground and fell asleep. As soon as night came, the yakkhas attacked, killing every single man and beast. The fiends devoured the flesh, leaving only the bones, and departed. Skeletons were strewn in every direction, but the five hundred carts stood with their loads untouched. Thus the heedless young merchant was the sole cause of the destruction of the entire caravan.
Allowing six weeks to pass after the foolish trader had left, the Bodhisatta set out with his five hundred carts. When he reached the edge of the wilderness, he filled his water jars. Then he assembled his men and announced, "Let not so much as a handful of water be used without my permission. Furthermore, there are poisonous plants in this wilderness. Do not eat any leaf, flower, or fruit which you have never eaten before, without showing it to me first." Having thus carefully warned his men, he led the caravan into the wilderness.
When they had reached the middle of the wilderness, the yakkha appeared on the path just as before. The merchant noticed his red eyes and fearless manner and suspected something strange. "I know there is no water in this desert," he said to himself. "Furthermore, this stranger casts no shadow. He must be a yakkha. He probably tricked the foolish merchant, but he doesn't realize how clever I am."
"Get out of here!" he shouted at the yakkha. "We are men of business. We do not throw away our water before we see where more is to come from!"
Without saying any more, the yakkha rode away.
As soon as the yakkhas had left, the merchant's men approached their leader and said, "Sir, those men were wearing lotuses and water lilies on their heads. Their clothes and hair were wringing wet. They told us that up ahead there is a thick forest where it is always raining. Let us throw away our water so that we can proceed quicker with lightened carts."
The merchant ordered a halt and summoned all his men. "Has any man among you ever heard before today," he asked, "that there was a lake or a pool in this wilderness?"
"No, sir," they answered. "It's known as the 'Waterless Desert.' "
"We have just been told by some strangers that it is raining in the forest just ahead. How far does a rain-wind carry?"
"A yojana, sir."
"Has any man here seen the top of even a single storm-cloud?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can you see a flash of lightning?"
"Four or five yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here seen a flash of lightning?"
"No, sir."
"How far off can a man hear a peal of thunder?"
"Two or three yojanas, sir."
"Has any man here heard a peal of thunder?"
"No, sir."
"Those were not men, but yakkhas," the wise merchant told his men. "They are hoping that we will throw away our water. Then, when we are weak and faint, they will return to devour us. Since the young merchant who went before us was not a man of good sense, most likely he was fooled by them. We may expect to find his carts standing just as they were first loaded. We will probably see them today. Press on with all possible speed, without throwing away a drop of water!"
Just as the merchant had predicted, his caravan soon came upon the five hundred carts with the skeletons of men and oxen strewn in every direction. He ordered his men to arrange his carts in a fortified circle, to take care of the oxen, and to prepare an early supper for themselves. After the animals and men had all safely bedded down, the merchant and his foremen, swords in hand, stood guard all through the night.
At daybreak the merchant replaced his own weak carts for stronger ones and exchanged his own common goods for the most costly of the abandoned merchandise. When he arrived at his destination, he was able to barter his stock of wares at two or three times their value. He returned to his own city without losing a single man out of all his company.
This story ended, the Buddha said, "Thus it was, laymen, that in times past, the foolish came to utter destruction, while those who clung to the truth escaped from the yakkhas' hands, reached their goal in safety, and returned to their homes again.
"This clinging to the truth not only endows happiness even up to rebirth in the Realm of Brahma, [3] but also leads ultimately to Arahatship. Following untruth entails rebirth either in the four states of punishment or in the lowest conditions of mankind." After the Buddha had expounded the Four Truths, those five hundred disciples were established in the Fruit of the First Path.
The Buddha concluded his lesson by identifying the Birth as follows: "The foolish young merchant was Devadatta, [4] and his men were Devadatta's followers. The wise merchant's men were the followers of the Buddha, and I myself was that wise merchant."
Notes:
1. The Uposatha is the full, new, and half-moon days, when many Buddhists observe the Eight Precepts.
2. Yojana: a unit of distance, about seven miles.
3. The Realm of Brahma refers to the highest heavens, where beings enjoy radiant bliss.
4. Devadatta was a cousin of the Buddha. He tried to kill the Master several times, but always failed.
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(From Jataka Tales of the Buddha, part I. Retold by Ken and Visakha Kawasaki. Copyright@1995.)
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